


death by a thousand cuts

by sodelicate



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Fantasy Haikyuu Exchange 2019, Love Confessions, M/M, Seers/Oracles, Shapeshifting, kenma is salty about his powers, no one actually dies I promise, protective kuroo, side bokuaka and mentioned kagehina, the title is just a metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodelicate/pseuds/sodelicate
Summary: The thing about coming from a family of seers and being unlucky enough to inherit the power of prophecy is that Kenma can catch glimpses of all sorts of possible futures. In each and every one of them, he and his childhood best friend Kuro are in love with each other.And in none of them did Kenma see them having a ‘happily ever after’ together.Or: Bokuto and Kuroo are in an arranged marriage, no one is happy about it because they're all in love with other people, and Kenma learns a lesson in standing up for what he wants.





	death by a thousand cuts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FriczCreations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriczCreations/gifts).

> hey, it's me, your mysterious giftee! happy fantasy hq exchange day!! i had a ton of fun coming up with ideas to fill your prompt and writing this. i hope you enjoy this! :-)
> 
> i think the only thing that may be triggering in this is a mention of parents yelling at their kid, breaking objects and slapping said kid. it's nothing graphic, though. otherwise, this fic should be more-or-less safe to read.
> 
> this was written way before chapter 370 blew up the entire fandom like an angry god, hence some extremely minor inconsistencies with canon.
> 
> last but definitely not least, i wanna give a mega shoutout to my betas louie ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louie_writes/works) | [tumblr](https://justoverseas.tumblr.com/)) and tan ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kourota/pseuds/kourota) | [tumblr](https://smartass-hoot.tumblr.com/)). as the first draft was written in a record two days (i honestly am not sure what i was on during those two days tbh), there were a few gaps in the story they helped me to fill, which resulted in this. thanks bros, i really appreciate the help and feedback on this fic!! <3

When Kuro first tells Kenma “I love you” when they're eight and seven respectively, Kenma isn't surprised. He saw this about a year ago in a dream, as visions of possible futures often tend to occur to him. Even at the tender age of seven, Kenma is aware of the tropes his ability comes with. He detests it, wishing the universe were a little more creative about his powers instead of the whole hackneyed ‘visions of the future will come to you in a dream’ thing he's stuck with for the rest of his life.

The thing about coming from a family of seers and being unlucky enough to inherit the power of prophecy is that Kenma can catch glimpses of all sorts of possible futures. In each and every one of them, he and his childhood best friend Kuro are in love with each other.

And in none of them did Kenma see them having a ‘happily ever after’ together.

He doesn't say a word. Nothing he can say will change what is inevitable.

* * *

When Kuro tells Kenma four years later about his arranged engagement to a boy named Bokuto Koutarou who also lives in Tokyo, Kenma wishes he were surprised. As it is, though, Kuro is engaged to Bokuto in half the futures he's seen. In the other half, other circumstances keep them from being together—falling out, drifting apart, one of them getting murdered in a coffee shop, that sort of thing. 

Kenma doesn't react. There is no right reaction to have when the best friend you're in love with announces he's getting married to someone who isn't you.

“This doesn't change anything, you know,” Kuro says, like that will suddenly make everything okay again. “I still love you and only you, Kenma.”

“Of course it doesn't change anything,” Kenma mutters under his breath. He leaves it at that. Even if he wasn't a seer, he doubts he would think he and Kuro would have a chance of being _ together-_together. The thing is, Kuro hails from a prestigious family of shapeshifters—specifically, predator-cat shapeshifters. His favourite form is a great black panther (no, not the Marvel superhero, for better or for worse), but Kenma has seen him change into a fierce tiger as well as a majestic lion on several occasions too. His perennial bedhead is a fixed feature in all his forms, which is how Kenma is able to distinguish him from other cat shifters.

Being among the last few predator-cat shifters due to famine, turf wars, extinction and what-have-you, the Kuroo clan is way up in the societal hierarchy. They're practically celebrities the way reality TV stars are celebrities: simply by existing and prolonging their twenty seconds of fame through scandals, weird publicity stunts and (occasionally underhanded) business moves. They own all sorts of huge technology companies across the country and often make the headlines of business newspapers. 

On the other hand, Kenma is a mostly ordinary human boy with the hindrance of having visions of the future intrude upon him when he's trying to sleep. Given how obsessed the Kuroo clan is with curating their image to maintain their influence and fame, there is no way they would allow their precious heir to marry anyone beneath him. 

“Why him? Isn't he an owl shifter?” Kenma asks. As much as he tries to live under a rock when it comes to who's the Next Big Thing or which young businessperson is made of New Money, even he hasn't missed all the talk about the Bokuto clan, who are both the Next Big Thing and made of New Money. 

“Well, yeah,” Kuro allows. “The only other option is the Yaku clan. But even besides the fact that they're of the _ domesticated_-cat variety—” His nose wrinkles. There has always been some kind of rivalry between the predator-cat shifters and the domesticated-cat shifters, though Kenma thinks feuds in general are stupid and exhausting to deal with so he doesn't keep up with the gossip. “—their heir is, like, my cousin or at least fairly closely related to me, and the shapeshifter community as a whole has moved away from incest. My clan would rather mix our bloodline with a different species than risk all the complications of incestuous coupling. Also, the head of my clan is optimistic there's the possibility that any children Bokuto and I could sire will have more ‘options’ to shift into, so to speak. A Multi-shifter hasn't existed for generations, so the prestige of being the first to do so—well, how could my parents and the other higher-ups say no?” His chuckle is bitter.

Kenma doesn't want to think about how messed up it is that Kuro is barely thirteen and the head of his clan is already planning out the possible _ children _ he will have. Neither does he want to think too much about how two male shifters of different species will be able to sire _any_ children at all. He decides to focus on the most logical thing at hand.

“You said your engagement doesn't change anything and you still love me.”

“It doesn't change anything _ because _ I still love you,” Kuro corrects.

Kenma continues as if Kuro hadn't spoken. “What does that mean? Do you plan on rebelling?”

Kuro rubs his chin, probably mulling it over. Kenma can't believe he's actually considering it an option, given how cutthroat the predator-cat community and _ especially _ his clan are. “That's certainly a possibility. Hey, you're a seer, aren't you?”

“What an astute deduction. It’s almost like you've known me my whole life.”

“Oh hush, don't you get smart with me now. As I was saying, can't you use your super cool powers to divine the future? Like, a future where I successfully rebel and get to marry you?”

Kenma sighs. “I've told you before, Kuro, my powers don't work like that. I only see _ possible _ futures; I don't _ control _ them. A future like that doesn't exist anyway. In all the futures I've seen, we don't get to be together the way you want us to be.”

Kuro’s stare could burn holes through Kenma if he were a less stoic person. “Or are you just not looking hard enough? Have you given up so easily?”

Kenma flinches, a rare moment of weakness. Does Kuro really think he didn't try at all? Does he really think Kenma would fall in love with his best friend (even if he has never actually _ said _ it) and not try to find that one-in-a-million future for them, never mind that his powers don't even work like that?

(And maybe, just maybe, Kuro _ is _ right. Even if Kenma didn't possess the ability to divine the future, the sheer gap between their societal standings is proof enough that the world wouldn't allow them to be together in any lifetime.)

“Come to think of it,” Kuro says, his voice too casual, “_you've _ never said what you wanted all this time.”

Kenma averts his gaze from Kuro’s too-intense one. “Doesn't matter.” It doesn't matter in any of the futures he's seen, so it doesn't matter now. “What's your plan if rebellion doesn't work? Would you take me as a concubine? Or perhaps as a mistress?”

Kuro’s laugh pierces him like shards of broken glass. “As tempting as your proposition is, shapeshifter marriages are very strictly monogamous. The penalty for cheating is akin to death by a thousand cuts.”

Death by a thousand cuts—that pretty much sums up what it feels like to be in love with Kuro and spend every day with him but still not be able to be _ with _ him. Love and time have melded together into a sword, slashing Kenma a thousand times every night as he wishes in vain for one—just one—future that he can spend with Kuro.

* * *

Every day, Kuro makes it a point to tell Kenma “I love you”. Each time, Kenma responds with a simple nod. It’s a fact that Kenma doesn't see changing, just like everything else about their lives. But he never _ replies. _ In fact, he doesn't understand why Kuro says it at all—surely he sees that it’s just hurting them both in the long run.

Perhaps against his better judgement, Kenma allows himself to indulge in the deepening cadence of Kuro’s voice each time he says those three achingly sweet words. At his lower moments, he fantasises about the different kinds of situations where he could hear those three words uttered in different tones; in sweet croons, in low harsh pants, in sleepy whispers harmonising with the crickets outside the window. 

But that's where he hits a wall, because all those situations would require them to be, well, _ together _ for the rest of their lives.

Spending every day with Kuro in spite of their impending inevitable future is both the worst and best thing. It tears Kenma apart to think about how each moment with Kuro is only bringing them closer to their eventual parting, but at the same time he can't bear to be apart from Kuro. It is a cruel, vicious cycle—either way, he's getting hurt so he might as well be in pain while also indulging in Kuro’s company.

The colder seasons sum up this perplexing dichotomy of emotions Kenma feels. He hates the cold because he hates having to bundle up in multiple layers while still freezing to death (he has never been good at retaining warmth). But the cold also means getting to be physically close to Kuro, who's practically a heat furnace, and he can't pass an opportunity like that up (even if he will never actually admit it, least of all to Kuro’s face).

They're cuddled up on Kuro’s bedroom floor with Kenma's back against Kuro’s chest. He’s trying to defeat the current Gym Leader while Kuro watches some Korean drama on the TV. Kenma will never understand Kuro’s taste in entertainment, but they have an unspoken agreement that Kenma will not judge Kuro’s closeted love for Korean dramas as long as Kuro doesn't judge Kenma’s choice of player-character designs.

It seems like the universe loves shitting on Kenma today, because even with the heaters in the room turned on, a blanket wrapped around him and Kuro’s body pressed against his back, Kenma still feels like he's tottering on the edge of frostbite.

“You're freezing, aren't you, kitten?” Kuro hums into Kenma’s ear, reading his mind perfectly. 

Kenma shrugs. “Don't trouble yourself. You still have to find out who's the baby father of the protagonist’s child, don't you?”

“The identity of the man who knocked up Hae-Won can wait. Hold on, let me just shift real quick.”

Kenma hastily shuffles away to give Kuro the space he needs to make a full transformation. They don't call them _ predator_-cat shifters for nothing. 

In no time, a large black panther with a crown of spiky fur on his head is sprawled lazily across the floor where a fourteen-year-old boy once sat. Kuro purrs at Kenma and lifts a paw, beckoning him over. Complying, Kenma carefully sits back down beside Kuro and runs a hand over his newly-formed fur. It’s the softest that Kenma has ever felt it been—it could give all the fur rugs in the world a run for their money. As he strokes Kuro’s fur in a gentle rhythm, Kuro lets out a low hum of contentment and affection. 

Kuro must be in an excellent mood, then, if his fur is this soft. According to him (and he might have been exaggerating a little to brag, knowing what he's like), the quality of his fur depends on his mood. When he's in a good mood, his fur is the way it is now. But in a bad mood, it feels like straw covered with thorns. 

“Simply put, emotional and/or psychological state affects one’s powers,” Kuro once said in that tone that straddled the fine line between pulling Kenma’s leg and actually being serious. “Or at least, it does for shifters.” 

Kuro curls his tail around Kenma and all but drags him against his body. Kenma sinks into the mass of warm black fur. If Kuro turns to regard him with that smug, almost devilish look that screams “I'm the best, aren't I?”, Kenma doesn't notice it; he's too busy stealing Kuro’s warmth.

Kuro pushes his snout against Kenma’s cheek, which is his way of asking Kenma if he's okay.

“Yeah, much better now,” Kenma murmurs. Lying against Kuro and letting his warmth engulf him is doing _ things _ to Kenma, like making his limbs feel like pudding and his eyelids like they have gained several hundred pounds.

Kuro curls tighter around Kenma, resting his head on Kenma’s lap, as though to protect him from the cold. Gradually, like the tide approaching and shying away from the shore, he drifts off to sleep, but not without distantly wishing that he could freeze time like this. 

* * *

Kenma is, once more, spending the afternoon in Kuro’s room when Kuro’s parents barge in and summon their son for a ‘talk’. 

Kuro rolls over from where he was lying on his stomach “Does it have to be now?” he drawls. “I'm busy enjoying Kenma’s company right now.”

They're honestly not doing much—Kenma is just seated on Kuro’s bed, playing his video games, while Kuro himself is sprawled over the faux fur rug. Kenma doesn't think there is anything particularly enjoyable about his presence right now, but Kuro is a strange guy.

“Yes, it has to be now,” Kuro’s mother says tersely. “It’s about your fiancé.”

Kuro’s shoulders immediately stiffen. “I don't see what those two things have to do with each other. Just because this is about my fiancé doesn't necessarily make this an urgent matter.”

Both of his parents’ faces pinch into matching long-suffering expressions, as if wondering what they had done wrong to deserve such an obstinate and defiant son. Kuro’s father squares his shoulders and straightens his spine, something Kenma recognises as an aggressive stance.

Kenma has firsthand witnessed how cutthroat Kuro’s family is about his behaviour; he has unwillingly overheard arguments shouted at the top of their lungs with objects breaking as well as harsh slaps across the face, which usually result in Kuro being grounded for the next week or so (that has never stopped him from sneaking out to see Kenma, though). While Kuro acts nonchalant about it like he's used to it, Kenma doesn't want anything like that to happen to Kuro, especially because of him.

“Just go, Kuro,” Kenma mumbles. “Get it done and over with.”

“Well, if you insist,” Kuro says, finally relenting. He stretches and pushes himself up to his feet, padding out of the room to join his parents.

Kenma manages to get through two levels of his game to reach the boss before Kuro returns with a grim, resigned look on his face.

“They’ve arranged a meeting for me and Bokuto,” Kuro says, answering Kenma’s unspoken question. “It’s this weekend, so we won't be able to play volleyball together.”

“Oh.” Kenma continues battling the boss. This boss is the hardest one he has fought yet. Not only does it manage to dodge most of his attacks, the ones they do manage to land barely faze it. It advances towards Kenma’s sprite with two swords in its gnarled hands, slashing him repeatedly over and over again. He jams his finger down on the ‘defense’ button, but it’s no use—there's nothing he can do against this monster. His character goes down, unable to put up a fight, and he is returned to the ‘save’ menu.

“It, uh, probably won't take long,” Kuro continues, sounding too casual. “I’ll probably try to cause a ruckus to embarrass my parents so they'll send me back home, then we can—”

“You don't have to comfort me, Kuro,” Kenma interrupts. His eyes are focused on the screen. His character is back in the spot he last saved his game yet, except the tiny sprite won't move no matter how much he moves the control pad. It looks like the game file has frozen. “It’s fine. You go and do what you have to.”

“I _ have _ to, huh?”

There's something odd about the way Kuro said that, though Kenma can't put his finger on what it is, exactly. 

“What are you thinking of?” Kenma asks.

Kuro grins blithely. “Nothing at all. Don't mind me—continue fighting the boss monsters or whatever it is you're doing over there.”

And that's what Kenma does after restarting his game. It’s the same tango, over and over again, yielding nothing different each time.

* * *

Unfortunately, being able to see possible futures doesn't prevent Kenma from having to play volleyball. For one, his eyes glow when he gets premonitions (yet another cliché of his power that he curses all the higher beings for) which would make it rather obvious that he's using his divination powers to cheat during a game. Not that he would, anyway, but he supposes it’s important to rule out all possibilities. For two, visions of the future just _ come _ to him. Like he has had to explain to Kuro multiple times, he can't control it. This drawback really makes him hate his powers.

Kenma can't help but think it’s incredibly predictable that a cat shifter like Kuro would attend a high school named _ Neko_ma. He enrolls in it too, seeing as it’s the best option since it’s fairly near his home and has decent facilities. And, well, Kuro attends it too, and the both of them have always attended the same school ever since kindergarten.

In an interesting twist of fate, Nekoma is also the school the Yaku clan heir is going to. In fact, he's the libero of the volleyball team which Kuro is, coincidentally, a middle blocker on. From what Kenma has heard, they initially butted heads like a Zangoose versus a Seviper because of their rivalling clans and the fact that they couldn't agree on anything. However, it seems like now they're working together, if somewhat grudgingly, since they both share the same goal of dominating nationals. Whatever it is, Kenma is glad he doesn't have to patch up Kuro’s cat-fight wounds anymore (how a tiny domesticated cat like Yaku is able to land scratches—and _ deep _ ones, at that—on a much larger predator cat like Kuro is beyond Kenma’s understanding). 

The third-years on the team, being the typical asshole jock type, have tried giving Kenma grief since he apparently looks like an easy target. Kenma can't blame them; all things considered, he _ does _ look like an easy target. He isn't particularly tall or well-built, he's quiet and reserved, and his powers are pretty much useless should he get into an actual fight.

Keyword: they _ tried. _

With a smile that contains promises of ancient torture, Kuro requests to speak in private with the upperclassmen after practice one day. 

At practice the following week, the team gets the news that all the third-years have retired early and Kuro is now the new captain. Now the gym is practically reeking of Kuro’s pheromones that only activate when he's feeling especially protective and/or territorial. Kenma knows most of the scent is all over him—it’s got to be _ really _ strong if his inferior human nose can pick up faint whiffs of it—and that leaves no question as to who Kuro is feeling especially protective and/or territorial of. 

Wisely, the current members of the team treat Kenma with respect that the upperclassmen didn't. They also take care not to stand _ too _ close to Kenma on days Kuro is in a particularly territorial mood to avoid inhaling too much of his remarkably potent pheromones. If Kenma were someone who could be bothered to put more effort into life, he might try to coach Kuro out of his violently protective instincts as a large predator cat. But a part of him does enjoy the security he feels when he is with Kuro, so like the rest of the team he doesn't question why the upperclassmen would retire early or the fact that the entire gym now smells like Kuro. It’s Kuro’s territory now, and he protects what is his.

While the volleyball club lives in a mix of reverent awe and fear of Kuro, the rest of the school is plain terrified of him. In a bizarre turn of events, a guy in Kenma’s class actually notices him and decides it would be a good idea to hit on him, despite Kenma plainly telling him to his face that he isn't interested. When Kuro gets wind of this (either from Shouhei or Tora, those gossipers), he shows up at Kenma's classroom and asks to have a ‘friendly chat’ with the guy behind the school building. 

The next day, the guy is never spotted again. Kenma _ thinks _ he migrated to Tanzania to escape Kuro’s wrath but he can never be certain, especially because Kuro just grins like the devil he is whenever Kenma tries to get the truth out of him. In fact, Kuro’s lazy yet devious smirks combined with his borderline-murderous protectiveness of Kenma has earned him the title of Nekoma’s Devil Panther. It’s a name he seems to take great pride in, if the broad grin on his face whenever he hears someone call him that is anything to go by.

At any rate, volleyball is once again a safe—if exhausting—place for Kenma to be, so he sticks with the sport. He doesn't particularly _ love _ it the way Kuro does, but at the same time he doesn't _ hate _ it, so he thinks it’s okay if he keeps being the setter of Nekoma’s boys’ volleyball team. Plus, the uniform is red, and Kenma has always been partial to that colour (it may or may not have something to do with how good it looks on Kuro).

Continuing to play volleyball is how he ends up meeting Bokuto Koutarou and his storage room of brain cells, a first-year named Akaashi Keiji, at a practice match between Nekoma and Fukurodani. Even without knowing who he is prior to this meeting, Kenma would be able to tell that Bokuto Koutarou is an owl shifter just by his hair alone—those owl shifters tend to have wild hair in their human forms that matches their coat of feathers. However, Bokuto seems like an anomaly among owl shifters, who are known for their quiet and sometimes even aloof natures, and Bokuto is anything but.

Between Bokuto and Akaashi, Kenma would have put his money on Akaashi being the owl shifter despite his relatively more normal-looking black hair, since he fits the general description of ‘quiet and aloof’ typical of owl shifters better. But other than possessing a saintly amount of patience and common sense, Akaashi is more-or-less an ordinary teenaged boy.

This isn't Kuro and Bokuto's first time meeting each other, since they _ are _ going to be getting married when they're twenty, but this is Kenma’s first time seeing Kuro’s fiancé. Kuro had invited him on several occasions to meet Bokuto prior to this, though Kenma turned him down each time. He couldn't bear to meet the person who will eventually be taking Kuro away from him, even if it isn't Bokuto’s fault and he had as much say in the matter as Kuro (so basically, none at all).

Ever since Coach Nekomata announced this practice match a week ago, Kenma was preparing himself to do his best to not hate Bokuto on first sight. And now that Kenma had met the guy—well, Kenma finds that he genuinely doesn't. Even if he is an exhausting presence for an introvert like Kenma to be around, climbing Everest would be an easier task than trying to hate him. He lifts up the mood of the entire gym, both his own team’s as well as his opponents’, and playing against him almost makes Kenma feel like he can genuinely enjoy volleyball. The only thing getting in the way of that is the reminder that he's the guy who will be getting married to Kuro in about three years’ time. 

Really, though, no one would guess that Kuro and Bokuto are engaged if they didn't already know. They greet each other by family name and don't touch each other at all other than friendly high-fives and fist-bumps. They exchange good-natured jabs and pre-game trash talk across the net, as well as praise and congratulations after the game (it’s slightly begrudging on Kuro’s part, since it _ is _ Fukurodani’s victory, but he insists on being a good sportsman), but there's no flirtatious undertone in their words whatsoever. Kenma might even say they behave more like friendly rivals than lovers—there is no warm tenderness that Kuro looks at Kenma with in his eyes when he chats with Bokuto by the sidelines after the match. Kenma can't help but think that things would be a lot easier if Kuro were in love with Bokuto instead. That way, it wouldn't be so hard for Kenma to try and let go of his own feelings, since there won't be any foolish false hope that leads his heart back into Kuro’s hands each and every day.

Kenma needs some air, so he quietly excuses himself from the gym. He plops down on the grass and barely notices the other presence in the field until the person speaks.

“That was a good game,” Akaashi Keiji says, settling down on the grass beside Kenma. “You are a frighteningly capable setter, Kozume-kun. I look forward to playing against you at next year's tournament.”

Kenma has never been one for small talk, so he just nods. He eyes Akaashi warily. From what he has gathered about his fellow setter, Akaashi—like Kenma—isn’t the kind of person who would do anything without a reason. Everything, from tossing a volleyball to approaching someone in an open field outside a gym, is all calculated and planned carefully.

“You don't have to look at me so cautiously,” Akaashi says. Perhaps if he were less of a stoic person, he would sound amused. “I have no intention to harm you. I just wanted to have a conversation with you, setter to setter.”

“You're not here to talk about volleyball,” Kenma states plainly.

Akaashi’s eyebrows arch. “How could you tell?”

_ Because you're like me. _

“I read people in volleyball games,” Kenma says instead. “It’s not that hard to apply the same concept to other aspects of life.”

“I suppose that's true. I guess I should just cut to the chase—you’re both in love with each other.”

Akaashi doesn't have to specify who he's talking about. Kenma blinks, surprised, and _ that's _ a feat to achieve because being a seer and childhood friends with Kuro means not much can surprise him anymore. “How did you know?”

“Oh please,” Akaashi says. “You should ask me a challenging question.”

Kenma scowls. While he has no doubt that Kuro’s affection for him is so obvious that everyone within a fifty-mile radius has noticed and smelled it, Kenma prides himself on his ability to mask his own feelings behind a stony facade. There's really only one way that Akaashi could have guessed.

“You're in the same boat as me. You're in love with Bokuto-san and he loves you too.”

Instead of answering Kenma’s not-question, Akaashi asks, “Why don't you do something about it? You can see the future, can't you?”

Kenma sighs. Why does everyone have this preconceived belief that he can control the future just because he can see varieties of it? “Seeing the possibilities doesn't change anything.”

“Perhaps. But trying does.” 

Kenma’s face twists into another scowl before he can stop it. Maybe Akaashi is an unusually optimistic person, but Kenma doesn't see any point in trying when all the futures seem hellbent on keeping him and Kuro apart.

“I met Bokuto-san by pure chance,” Akaashi says out of nowhere. “It was last year at a high school tournament that Fukurodani was participating in. I got an offer for a sports scholarship from them, so I thought I'd stick around to watch their match. When I saw Bokuto-san leap up to spike the ball—” A smile that Kenma is sure is exceedingly rare, despite barely knowing him, blossoms on Akaashi’s face. “—my first thought was, _ ‘He's a star’_. He was the reason why I decided to take Fukurodani up on their offer—because I wanted to be his setter. I know people think of me as his keeper or nanny, but I _ choose _ to be with him, to stay late with him to continue practising even after everyone else has gone home. Don't you see, Kozume-kun?”

Kenma just continues staring silently at the grass, unsure of what he is supposed to be seeing.

“I may have encountered him by chance, but everything else afterwards was not. I chose to attend Fukurodani, I chose to join their volleyball team, I chose to set to him. When I ended up falling in love with him, I chose to let it happen despite knowing about his engagement to Kuroo-san. I want to continue choosing him, no matter what the world says. I don't wish to be presumptuous, but surely you feel the same way about Kuroo-san.”

The thing is, Kenma does. He just doesn't think it’s possible to do what Akaashi said—to continue _ choosing _ to love Kuro despite what the world says, because if he had any choice in the matter he would have moved on a long time ago.

* * *

Never in Kenma’s life would he have expected to befriend someone like Hinata Shouyou. Similarly with Kuro, Kenma would never ordinarily become friends with a person like Shouyou, though for different reasons from his friendship with Kuro. While Kuro’s societal standing is far above anything Kenma can reach, Shouyou is _ fundamentally _ different from Kenma. Shouyou attracts attention everywhere he goes; Kenma has never been the first person to be noticed in any given room. Shouyou can socialise for hours on end and get more and more energised with each conversation; Kenma has to be dragged out of the house by Kuro to remember how to interact with other people. Shouyou functions on _ ‘GWAH’ _ and _ ‘BAM’ _instincts; Kenma never does anything without carefully calculating his every move. The only thing they have in common other than volleyball—and even then they don't play the same position—is that they both despise the cold.

But as circumstances and maybe even fate (but mostly getting lost in an unfamiliar town) would have it, Kenma is now friends with Hinata Shouyou.

Here are some facts about Shouyou that Kenma has learned over the course of their friendship: he can jump real high and run real fast despite his stature. He would lay down his life for a good meat bun. He is dating his grumpy setter.

He is also a shapeshifter, like Kuro. But unlike Kuro, he's a crow shifter, not a cat shifter.

And also unlike Kuro, he is able to date his ordinary human lover since he isn't betrothed to anyone. From what Kenma has managed to gather from Shouyou’s nonlinear and non-categorical narrations, the crow-shifter community doesn't believe in pre-arranged marriages but rather in being free to choose their own mate and then sticking with that mate for life. To Kenma’s never-ending envy, the crow community is also one of the most liberal communities among all the shapeshifters in Japan—that’s why Shouyou can happily date a normal human boy with little to no repercussions from his clan. In fact, Kenma is given to understand that most shifter communities are fairly liberal—or are at least on the path to becoming more liberal—when it comes to mating by Japan’s standards. It’s really only the predator-cat and owl communities that insist on sticking to outdated traditions.

Presently, Kenma and Shouyou are at one of those joined training camps together with the rest of the Fukurodani Academy Group. Thankfully, it’s just the two of them in Nekoma's dorm; the rest of the team are either still eating, showering, chatting somewhere else in the grounds, or otherwise avoiding the dorm that's coated with Kuro’s potent pheromones until they absolutely _have _to go to bed. 

But even if they weren't alone, no one questions Shouyou’s presence in Nekoma’s dorm. To Kenma’s surprise, Kuro doesn't react to Shouyou with his usual casually dangerous protectiveness as he usually does when he thinks there's an interloper getting between him and Kenma. Yaku thinks it’s because he sees how happy talking to Shouyou makes Kenma. Kenma figures Kuro probably doesn't find Shouyou a threat. After all, crows mate for life, and it’s clear as the scent of Kuro’s pheromones all over Kenma that Shouyou has claimed Kageyama as his mate—and no one questions a crow’s fidelity to their mate. 

And that is another world of difference between Shouyou and Kenma: Shouyou can be with the one he loves, and Kenma can't.

Hence, given the sheer differences in their circumstances, Kenma only feels sad when Shouyou asks him “So what?” after he explains why he can't be with Kuro.

Kenma tries not to sigh at Shouyou's question as he would've done with anyone else, since he is rather fond of Shouyou like he would of a little brother. A crow-shifter little brother, but still. “Shouyou, I already explained to you—”

“Yeah, I got that part about Kuroo-san and Bokuto-san’s engagement—and whoa, _ that's _ really weird to think about,” Shouyou says, rocking back and forth on the foot of Kenma’s futon. “I mean, I trained with them in the third gym, and they weren't lovey-dovey at all! But I still don't see your point. If you really do love him, I think you should fight for him—and for yourself too.”

This is what Kenma both likes and hates about Shouyou—his simple, artless honesty and the way he delivers it with no unnecessary hedging or beating around the bush.

“And I've told you, in none of the futures I've seen were Kuro and I ever together. Like, together-together,” Kenma adds, thinking maybe he needs to take a page out of Shouyou’s vocabulary to get him to understand.

Shouyou hesitates, which is truly a rarity for a motormouth like him, before slowly saying, “You know, Kenma, life doesn't always give you what you want. If you can't find an opportunity, then you just gotta _ make _ one.”

Now it’s Kenma’s turn to pause. He thinks about Shouyou, and how his shorter-than-average height hasn't stopped him from playing volleyball _ and _ being well on his way to becoming the next Little Giant. From anyone else, the words “If you can't find an opportunity, then you just gotta _ make _ one” would have sounded like empty platitudes people say all the time to try and be helpful when they actually aren't. But coming from Shouyou who has, in fact, made opportunities when he couldn't find them—well, those words have a little more weight to them.

“You love him, don't you?” Shouyou asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “And that isn't something you can give up so easily on, right? Then you can't—give up, that is. You have to fight for your love. If the rest of the world tries to get in your way, you gotta, like, _ POW _ your way through and prove you and Kuroo-san belong together. I'm sure Kuroo-san hasn't given up, either.”

Fight for his love, huh? Fight against what could very well be inevitable, huh? If Shouyou were anyone else, Kenma would have immediately dismissed him. But Shouyou has this innocent yet ferocious earnestness about him that makes Kenma take him more seriously than he would have done for anyone else.

Kenma meditates on Shouyou’ words for the rest of the night, because if anything, he hates disappointing Shouyou.

* * *

Since neither of them has anything better to do on the weekend after the training camp, they're hanging out in Kuro’s room. Kuro is busy going over wedding ideas and musing to himself about venue decorations, wedding cakes and the guest list. The actual ceremony is in two years’ time, but shifter matrimonies are apparently huge affairs. Also, Kuro just likes planning things way ahead.

"What do you think, Kenma?" Kuro asks absentmindedly, tapping away at his phone.

Kenma doesn't look up from his game console. "What do I think about what?"

"The merits of red velvet versus black forest. Y'know, for my wedding cake."

_What does it matter? It's your wedding cake, not mine._

Kenma keeps his eyes fixed on the screen. "I don't really care either way. As long as it's not too sweet."

Kuro grins. "I bet you were thinking of having apple pie instead."

"Not really."

"You totally were."

"Did not," Kenma mutters.

"Did too," Kuro counters, smirking like the little shit he is.

"Did not."

"Did too."

Irritation flares up in Kenma. Before he can stop himself, he lashes out, "Why would I be thinking of having apple pie? It's not like it's my wedding."

Surprise flashes across Kuro's face, his eyes widening and his smirk falling off his face. He looks down, his expression now unreadable. Kenma bites his lip. Why did he have to get so worked up? This is such a dumb thing to fight over. They _have_ had plenty of dumb fights before, but this _has_ to take the cake.

Kenma steels himself up, preparing for an argument, but all Kuro says is "Yeah, you're right" before continuing to type on his phone.

Thinking he's going to leave it at that, Kenma returns his attention to his game. The monster in his path is particularly obstinate. It refuses to budge, even after he pulls out all the big guns and heavy hitters in his party.

"Still, I'd like to know what you think," Kuro adds, like Kenma didn't just snap at him. "Your opinion still matters to me, you know."

This time, Kenma presses his lips together in a tight line and keeps his stare fixed solely on his game. Why does his opinion matter? This whole thing is between Kuro, Bokuto and their respective clans, after all—Kenma is just an outsider who just so happened to befriend and then fall in love with Kuro in a cruel twist of fate.

However, Kuro doesn't know how to take a hint. "How many candles should I have? I was thinking about twenty. Is that an overkill? Or perhaps too little?"

Kenma doesn't see the appeal in candles at all. Still, he doesn't reply.

Kuro doesn't back down. If anything, he probably sees this as a game to be played, a game that neither of them knows the rules to. "Hmm, I'm just gonna put twenty-five and see how big the venue is next week," he muses to himself. "What about decorations? Would it be cheesy to have little paper cats and owls strung up from the rafters?"

Very much so. Kenma almost, _almost,_ cringes at the idea. But he doesn't utter a word.

"Oh, that's right! I haven't even decided on my best man yet. Kenma, will you be my best man?"

Out of nowhere, both Akaashi and Shouyou's words flash through Kenma's mind.

_“I want to continue choosing him, no matter what the world says. I don't wish to be presumptuous, but surely you feel the same way about Kuroo-san.”_

_“You love him, don't you? And that isn't something you can give up so easily on, right?”_

And in this moment, Kenma has never hated Kuro more—because surely he knows that would be the absolute final straw that Kenma wouldn't be able to bear; he can't sit here, listen to the one he loves more than anything else in the world plan his pre-arranged wedding to _ someone else, _ and act like he doesn't care, anymore.

Because he cares so much, the very thought cuts him open—and through the bleeding wound the words come spilling out.

There are no fanfare or fireworks or marching bands when Kenma places his game console down and says, “Kuro. Look, I—I love you.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh as he thinks about how he has loved Kuro for longer than he can remember, yet it’s only now that he is actually telling Kuro how he feels. Then his laughter starts taking on a maniacal edge, because those three simple words rip open another thousand cuts in him. “And isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard? You're sitting there, planning your wedding to Bokuto-san—and here I am, a million years too late, finally telling you that I reciprocate your feelings. That is,” he adds, now starting to hesitate, “if you still feel the same way.”

Kuro blinks. Once, twice. He puts his phone down on the floor, which is still open on the notes app filled with wedding ideas. Upside-down, Kenma can read the words _ ‘Kenma: best man’. _ “I mean, of course I do. If being engaged to someone else for the past five years couldn't get me to stop loving you, then frankly I'm confident no force in the universe will. But jeez, why didn't you _ say _ so earlier?”

Kenma glares at him, incredulous. “Why didn't I _ say _ so earlier? Shouldn't it be obvious? Even if you weren't betrothed to Bokuto-san, I didn't—”

“See a future where we could be together, blah blah blah. Look, kitten, I'm thinking—and I’ve been thinking for the past five years—that maybe you just gave up before you really tried.”

Outrage floods through Kenma. How dare Kuro, _ Kuro, _ accuse him of giving up? If he knew half the pain and frustration Kenma has felt because of the sheer uselessness of his power and his situation and everything, if for the first time in his life Kuro would take their circumstances seriously and realise the complete hopelessness of it all— 

“Did you think it was any less painful for me, Kenma?” Kuro asks quietly, and Kenma freezes. “I'd honestly take death by a thousand cuts over having to marry and spend the rest of my miserable life with someone who isn't you. If you want to talk about fate, I'm one hundred percent confident that you and I are meant to be. Looking at you, talking to you, being with you just feels so… so _ right _ it can't be questioned. If you want to talk about choice, then I’ll choose you each and every time, in every lifetime, in every future. We’re two in a million, Kenma.”

Kenma snorts, because it’s all he can do right now amidst a whirlpool of roaring emotions. “You're not gonna round it down to one in half a million, nerd?”

“Nope, ‘cause it takes two to form a love like ours. Honestly, you really could've said something earlier.” 

“Oh really?” Kenma says dryly. “And what good would that have done? Would that have changed anything?”

“Look, I did have a plan in place to rebel should you ever say that you reciprocated my feelings, but then again I was never sure if you actually did," Kuro mumbles, sounding sheepish. "I was, uh, totally not subtle about my feelings for you—I even told you I loved you all the time. I made sure you smelled like me and that you knew it. Time went on, and I figured if you hadn't said anything by now, you probably didn't reciprocate at all. I was starting to feel like those creepy losers who keep pining after someone who's not interested, and—well, I could never tell whether your lack of response meant a rejection or something else. If you weren't interested, I would have backed off and married Bokuto like I was supposed to, no fuss whatsoever. But if your sudden and rather melodramatic confession just now indicates anything—”

“It’s _ because _ I love you that I didn't—couldn’t—say anything,” Kenma blurts out.

Kuro tuts like Kenma is a child who keeps getting the same question wrong over and over again even though the answer is right there in plain sight. “That mindset will never work, love. Like I said earlier, you had given up on any possibility of us being together before you even tried looking for it. Perhaps the future we want together—even if it’s one in a freaking billion—has been right there all along, and you just haven't been able to see it because of how narrow your thinking is.”

Kenma wills himself not to wince; Kuro really doesn't mince his words (though Kenma himself probably isn't in any position to point fingers). 

Then the real gravity of the second half of Kuro’s statement starts to sink in, and Kenma recalls something Kuro once said.

_ “Simply put, emotional and/or psychological state affects one’s powers." _

Huh. It really was that simple all along. The real issue the entire time was not _ truly _ society and the clans they were born in. That's not to say they weren't at least a _part _of the issue, but the actual monster all along was Kenma’s own mind. He was his own worst enemy, and he defeated himself before he even lifted a single weapon to fight.

Kuro smirks at him, like he can see the revelation taking place in Kenma’s mind. “Now that all that’s been said, I'd like to remind you that I love you and you're the one I want to marry. What do you think?”

Kenma takes in a shaky breath. This—this is unknown territory. His first instinct is to plan and calculate; and to do that, he needs to know the playing field. But _ now_, he's standing on the cusp of something different and uncharted, and by _ god _ does it terrify the crap out of him. More than cold weather and socialising for prolonged periods of time, he hates things he doesn't know and can't predict.

But there's Kuro on the other side through the fog, holding out a hand to Kenma and urging him to jump, because he believes Kenma can do it. 

Kuro has always had more faith in Kenma than Kenma had in himself. And for the first time in his life, he shouldn't run away from his facing his problems and let that faith go misplaced.

He releases that breath. “I think I would like that very much.”

A wide, devilish grin spreads across Kuro’s face, like he knew all along this would eventually be Kenma’s answer. “Looks like I'm gonna have to make some changes to my wedding arrangements, then.”

“You're not gonna call it off?”

“I'd love to, but it’d be a nightmare of paperwork and trying to negotiate with my clan and would-be in-laws when I unfortunately don't have much leverage to use against them as of yet. But don't worry.” Kuro shifts closer, takes Kenma’s hands and presses gentle kisses to the back of each one. “Like I said earlier, I do have a plan in place, but it will require waiting. I'm willing to wait, because our love is worth a thousand cuts, if you're willing too.”

And hell, Kenma has died multiple deaths by thousands of cuts over the years of irreversibly and irrevocably loving Kuro—he can take another thousand if that means he can really be with Kuro one day.

“I would like that too.”

* * *

If agonising in his pining for Kuro was akin to death by a thousand cuts over and over again, waiting another two years feels like half a million cuts. The both of them have been extraordinarily patient as they kept up the pretense like they were just best friends, but with every day that passes Kenma is more and more tempted to just run away with Kuro to a quiet island and build a new lives for themselves. But Kuro insists on taking a real stand instead of running away, and so Kenma dies a death of half a million cuts waiting.

In the meanwhile, they both go to universities. This time, they attend different universities in Tokyo, but Kenma has Shouyou who's attending the same one as he is and he lives with Kuro in an apartment right between their respective universities, so Kenma is doing okay—or at least, as okay as he can be. Kuro studies biochemistry by day and works as a barista by night four times a week, refusing to use his family’s money to pay for rent even though he very well could. It’s all part of his 'statement', so to speak. 

As for Kenma, he's in his first year of his game design programme. He tries to concentrate on the present—complete his assignments on time, remember to meet up with Shouyou on Tuesdays and Fridays for lunch at the university’s central cafeteria, let Kuro lather him with his pheromones whenever he gets particularly clingy—but with every day that gets crossed off the calendar, his nerves coil up into tighter and tighter bundles until they could just about snap at any given moment.

Really, all Kenma is doing is just trying to get through life as a university student one day at a time; just survive until D-Day comes. He studies by day, goes back to his apartment with Kuro in the evening and occasionally hangs out with Shouyou when their schedules match up.

And as fate (and getting lost in Tokyo—he’s lived here his whole life, so how is he _ still _ getting lost in this freaking city?) would have it, who should he bump into but the head of the Kuroo clan?

He can count the number of times he has met the matriarch of the Kuroo clan on one hand—that was usually when he was hanging out at Kuro’s home and she just so happened to drop by for clan-related business or whatever these business tycoon families do—and for good reason. The way she moves about and holds herself reminds him of the quiet, elegant but vicious grace of a tigress (you get one guess as to what cat _ she _ shapeshifts into). Seriously, she walks around the city of Tokyo in the full ensemble of what has to be the most expensive kimono, obi and zori with no sign of difficulty or struggle at all. Whenever Kenma wears traditional Japanese clothing, and those occasions are far and few between, he can't wait to get them off because of how uncomfortable they are and how difficult they make walking. Someone who can comfortably and freely move about in traditional Japanese clothing is not a person he can trust.

“Kenma-kun,” she greets. If she's surprised to see him, her perfectly made-up face betrays no sign of it. Everything about her is carefully poised—and terrifyingly blank. 

“Kuroo-sama, good evening,” Kenma mutters, averting his eyes. He can't read her, which means he can't prepare his next move. He figures if he looks away, she would think he's rude and leave him alone.

No such luck, because this is his life.

“What brings you to this part of Tokyo, Kenma-kun?”

He honestly has no idea. He was _ supposed _ to meet up at a ramen place with Shouyou for dinner in a corner of Tokyo he'd never been to before, so he used Google Maps to try and navigate his way there—except it has clearly failed him today, since he is presently lost in the city he grew up in and now holding a conversation with someone he'd really rather not converse with.

There is no way he's telling her any of that, though, so he settles for mumbling, “Meeting up with a friend.”

“In a place like this?” Her hand sweeps around, gesturing at the row of rather seedy-looking shops ahead of them and the dark alleys behind them.

Kenma bites his tongue to resist the urge to point out that _ she's _ here too, for whatever reason.

“Well, whatever you do,” she says in that sickeningly condescending voice like he’s a child (and to the matriarch of the mighty Kuroo clan, he probably is), “please take care of yourself. You are Tetsurou-kun’s best man, are you not? He will need you on his important day next week.”

Kenma keeps his hands locked together behind his back to hide how badly they're shaking. This woman may be barely pushing past five feet even with the heels of her sandals, but somehow she seems to loom over him and cast a shadow over the entire street.

This is just one person he’ll be going up against a mere week from now. Just standing in her presence makes him want to turn around, hide in the nearest hole available and never surface again. How is he going to stand up and declare he's going to be with Kuro in front of not only her but the rest of the Kuroo clan at the wedding? 

He doesn't feel like meeting up with Shouyou anymore. He sends Shouyou a quick text explaining he's not feeling well, then returns back home (it only takes him two hours and several instances of getting on the wrong train line).

When he enters the apartment and calls out a tired “I'm back”, he's nearly bowled over by a frantic Kuro.

“Kenma, what happened?” Kuro demands, grabbing Kenma’s shoulders and pulling him close. The air around them is suddenly saturated with Kuro’s protective pheromones. The dark glint in his eyes promises a slow, painful death for anyone who may have harmed Kenma. “You smell—off. Not, like, stinky or anything, but like you're not okay. Did something happen? Is that why you're back earlier than usual? Didn't you have plans with Karasuno's little crow-boy?”

Kenma is too exhausted for this. “I'm fine, Kuro. Just tired. It’s been a long day—that’s why I cancelled on Shouyou. I’ll make it up to him.”

Over a decade of friendship means Kuro recognises when Kenma needs his own space, so he obediently releases Kenma’s shoulders and steps back. He doesn't stem the flow of protective pheromones, though, as if warning off potential threats to Kenma’s well-being. It’s cute, honestly. 

“Okay then, if you say so,” Kuro concedes. “Just—just rest well, please? We need you in tip-top condition for next week.”

No need to remind him; next week is all Kenma has been thinking about. With a minuscule nod, he trudges back to his room and immediately collapses on his bed.

He gets maybe a few moments of dreamless sleep before visions begin to bombard him. He sees himself in the wedding hall like he's an invisible bystander. It's not his first time seeing himself in third-person in a dream, but it never fails to unsettle him. Is that really how his bangs look from this angle? 

Kenma watches as his dream self stands up and declares he's objecting to the wedding. In a blur too fast for someone dressed in full traditional Japanese ensemble, the clan head is on her feet. Everything around her grows brighter—and then _ darker _ as thick grey smoke starts billowing out from all corners of the hall.

As if waiting for the worst possible moment, Kenma's sleeping self and dream self merge together to form one. 

Still reeling from the sudden perspective change, Kenma coughs and chokes as smoke infiltrates his nose, mouth, eyes and lungs. Heat licks across and sears his skin. The din of people's panicked shouts threaten to split his head apart. For a dream, the scene is frighteningly realistic. 

Kuro is at his side at once. He pushes Kenma forward, someone else grabs him, and that’s how he ends up outside the burning building. The crowd around him is filled with screams and cries, but something inside the flaming wreckage catches his eyes.

Kuro is at the heart of the destruction, standing defiantly even as the ceiling collapses down around him. Everyone is screaming at him, from his parents to Bokuto and even Akaashi, but all Kenma can do is watch, smoke scorching his throat dry.

“Tetsurou-kun, if you won't obey orders, then you shall burn,” the clan head says, her voice cold and distant.

“If it’s for my love, I’ll happily burn a million times,” Kuro replies. Even standing in the heart of a fire, he holds himself tall and strong as always. His shoulders are thrown back, his chin raised with pride. 

_Don't be stupid—I’m not even there! _ Kenma wants to scream, but his voice has been burned away. He wants to rush forward and toss himself at Kuro so at least when the world crashes down around them, they'll be together in the final moments—yet he remains where he is, paralysed with terror.

The last thing he sees is the glint of a triumphant smirk before smoke wipes his vision black.

* * *

Kenma tries multiple times to convince Kuro what a bad idea the plan is after his hellscape of a dream, but Kuro refuses to listen.

“I won't let them burn me,” he declares. “I won't let anything burn. Trust me, Kenma, I know what I'm doing. I know that you and I—we’ll make this work.”

Kenma would really like to know where Kuro gets his endless supply of confidence from and how he can get some, because the smoke from the dream still lingers in his nose and lungs.

For better or for worse, the day of Kuro’s wedding comes. Kuro went through great pains to ensure the fire safety of the entire building, but Kenma is still a bundle of tightly coiled-up nerves and anxiety.

Just from his position across the venue in a small lounge that's being used as Kuro’s waiting room, Kenma can tell that this wedding is a _ huge _ affair. The Kuroo clan is huge. The Bokuto clan is nothing to scoff at, either. As such, both clans manage to fill up most of the seats in the hall, leaving the few remaining seats for non-family guests like their high school and university friends.

Kuro is dressed in what has to be the finest red silk yukata, specially tailored for today, and the hue brings out the rich warmth in his tanned complexion. Although his bedhead refuses to be completely tamed, he's managed to muss it into stylish tousles and spikes on his head. He really is handsome like a devil. Kenma’s heart races despite himself.

Kuro’s eyes sweep over Kenma from head to toe and back up to his face, and his lips curl into a smirk. The wave of pheromones he exudes is so potent Kenma can feel it covering him. “You look good, Kenma.”

Unlike Kuro, Kenma is dressed far more simply in a plain white yukata. He hates wearing traditional clothes, but he is Kuro’s best man so he _ has _ to dress up. In all honesty, he doesn't think he can compare to the casually suave yet regal looks of Kuro; he's just Kenma, and Kuro is, well, _ Kuro. _

Kuro pats Kenma’s head, and his hand lingers there. He leans down so his mouth is just barely brushing against Kenma’s ear when he says, “Remember the plan, okay? You can't afford to hesitate, or they'll eat you alive.”

Kenma nods shakily. He has seen futures where they carry out the plan they've been crafting for the past two years, but frustratingly, those visions always ended before he could tell whether it was a success or not. People really put too much faith in his prophetic abilities.

Kenma thinks perhaps there's something else Kuro would like to do, what with the way he rises back up to his full height and glances down at Kenma’s mouth, but Kuro’s parents burst in and briskly whisk them off to the entrance of the hall. Kenma tries not to feel too disappointed.

The ceremony itself combines both traditional Japanese as well as Western wedding elements. Both Kuro and Bokuto are walked down the aisle by an entourage consisting of their respective clan heads, parents and best men. In Bokuto’s case, his best man is Akaashi. Akaashi’s ceremonial yukata is similar in design to Kenma’s, except his is white and grey, as if to match Bokuto’s hair.

When the parties reach the altar where the minister is waiting, everyone takes their seats save for the two grooms. Kenma finds his place beside Akaashi in the first row, and Akaashi gives him a quick nod. The plan. They need to remember the plan.

The ceremony passes in a blur of cleansing rituals to purify the couple, droning speeches, songs, and prayers that Kenma doesn't pay all that much attention too. He has never quite liked these sort of ritualistic things. In fact, he nearly dozes off, until Akaashi suddenly and sharply elbows him in the ribs. Kenma jolts, just barely biting back a curse. He turns to suggest what Akaashi can do with his elbow when his brain tunes in to the ceremony and he catches what the minister says.

“Should anyone in this congregation have any objections to the union of this couple, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”

And this cliché straight from romance movies is supposed to act as Kenma’s cue, but he sits there, frozen as he recalls the smoke, the flames, the collapsing ceiling. He doesn't know where the fire would come from, given that Kuro insisted on not having candles at his wedding, but that doesn't stop him from fretting and calculating. If he were to get up and protest now, what are the chances that smoke would just start billowing out from nowhere? And if a fire were to start, how could he get Kuro out in time? And if—

Next to him, Akaashi stands. Gasps rise up from the congregation around them, but he keeps his chin held high. The only one he has his eyes on is Bokuto.

“I object." Akaashi's voice carries through the hall, loud, clear and even. His posture is upright, confident, with his shoulders pulled back. No one who isn't beside him would be able to tell that his fists are shaking. “No matter what the rest of the world says, the fact of the matter is that Koutarou and I love each other. We belong with each other—that is the heart of the matter. I cannot sit by and watch as the love of my life gets married to a man who is also in love with another person.” Akaashi shoots Kenma a deliberate look. “On that note, I believe Kuroo-san has someone else he wishes to be with, too.”

“Damn right I do,” Kuro declares. He is all casually devilish smirks on the surface, but Kenma can see a glimmer of fierce protectiveness beneath his swagger. He saunters off the altar and strides to the front of the congregation, where Kenma is still frozen in his seat. Kuro’s burning gaze never wavers from him, not even once.

To anyone else, Kuro’s smirk betrays nothing except confidence that almost crosses into the territory of arrogance. But as someone who's known him his whole life, Kenma spots a hint of shyness underneath it that, despite everything, hasn't been lost from his childhood.

Kuro bends down on one knee before Kenma and presents him a ring. It’s a simple silver band with a cat-shaped ruby on it, a combination of Kenma’s favourite colour and the animal that lives inside Kuro. 

“Seriously, Kenma," Kuro drawls. "I know I told you that you couldn't hesitate mostly just to add some dramatic flair to the situation, and I was counting on Akaashi to be the first one to stand anyway, but still.”

“Sorry my limbs decided to give up on me during that crucial, deciding moment due to sudden anxiety,” Kenma retorts, rolling his eyes. “And seriously, Kuro? _ That's _ your romantic opening line?”

Kuro chuckles, a low and throaty sound. “Look, I know my own wedding is kind of an awkward place to propose to you. I also know that we've never gone on an actual date—or really dated at all, because I didn't want us to have to skirt around in secrecy. But my point is, I've loved you my whole life. I want to continue loving you for the rest of it, so how about we just cut to the chase and get married?” Now the swagger and arrogance vanishes from his face. All that remains is the shy vulnerability of a young man down on one knee, who is so in love the whole world can see it without having to open its eyes, who is baring his heart open for not just Kenma but for _ everyone _ in the congregation to witness. “What do you think?”

But before Kenma can answer, the indignant yell of Kuro’s father cuts in. “What's the meaning of this, Tetsurou? You can't just propose to someone else at your _ own _ wedding!”

Kuro’s tender voice morphs into something harder and colder. “You'll find that I can and I have, Father dearest.”

The Kuroo clan head cuts in, all poise and elegance. Throughout the whole affair, she has not once moved in her seat or so much as turned to whisper to the people beside her. She looks ahead at Kuro, cool and sharp like an archer ready to hit bulls-eye. “Tetsurou-kun, I understand that you're young and feelings tend to run wild in your youth—”

“This isn't some high school infatuation or a case of raging hormones,” Kuro growls. Even still bent down on one knee, he manages to cut an intimidating figure with his broad shoulders and the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I've loved Kenma ever since we met when we were kids—everyone can see it. Everyone who's seen us can testify to that.” He gestures to their old high school teammates, who occupy the third row on the left side of the hall, to demonstrate.

Yaku rolls his eyes but rises to his feet nonetheless. “Kuroo made sure _ everyone _ knew he was in love with Kenma. His protectiveness constantly bordered on possessiveness; no one could so much as look at Kenma a certain way without Kuroo’s hackles rising—sometimes even literally. Hell, he even had his scent all over Kenma to lay his claim on him. On days that he felt particularly territorial, the entire gym would _ stink _ of his pheromones.”

Kenma grimaces at the memory. On those days, even his inferior human nose could catch faint traces Kuro’s scent. He wonders how strong it must’ve smelled to a fellow cat shifter like Yaku.

“Point is,” Yaku continues, “those two belong together. No one can take that away from them, even if you try to put one of them in a marriage to someone else.”

The clan head curls her lip at the sight of Yaku. Even at a wedding, old prejudices between rivalling communities still run rampant. As though pretending Yaku hadn't spoken, she turns her attention back to Kuro with a disapproving frown like he just left something rotting on her front porch. “Regardless, Tetsurou-kun, your marriage to Bokuto-kun has been arranged for years. You can't just go back on that promise.”

“And that's the thing,” Kuro interjects frostily, “_I _ never promised, and neither did Bokuto. In fact, everyone’s consent to the engagement was obtained—except for ours, the ones _ actually _ getting married. And you know what, I'm done with that. I don't care what anyone else says anymore. I want to be with the actual love of my life. Uh, no offense, Bokuto. You're cool but Kenma is where my heart, body and soul belongs with.”

Bokuto grins. “None taken. In fact, I feel the same about my Keiji.”

Akaashi blushes faintly, but the small smirk on his face indicates he's probably quite pleased to be publicly claimed as Bokuto’s Keiji.

Kuro levies the head of his clan with an even glare. “The only reason I'd accept for not being with Kenma is if _ Kenma _ himself didn't want to be with me.” He inclines his head to gaze up at Kenma—and isn't that a strange sight. Kuro is so tall, it’s usually Kenma who has to look up to make eye contact with him. “What do you want, love?”

With the eyes of over a hundred people on him, Kenma falters. He has never done well in a room full of people, let alone when all their attention is zeroed in on him like a sniper on a target. He almost balks under the pressure.

But then he spots Akaashi. His hand is in Bokuto’s in front of the entire congregation, and it hasn't budged even once throughout the entire thing. He doesn't say a word, but the quietly fierce gleam in his eyes fuels Kenma—because like he said so long ago, the two of them are in the same boat, but unlike him Akaashi has _ always _ fought to choose Bokuto.

And now, Kenma will fight too.

He stands up and looks at Kuro, who's still on his knee. “Yes, I think I would like that very much.”

With a smug smirk of a man who always knows the outcome to every situation, or at least has faith that he knows the outcome to every situation, Kuro slips the ring onto Kenma’s finger. He rises to his feet and wraps an arm around Kenma’s waist, his grip almost possessive.

“Now, I shall present you with an ultimatum,” Kuro announces, piercing the clan head and his parents with a cold smile. “Either you let me have a grandiose, beautiful wedding with Kenma or I elope with him. This is the part where you'll probably try to disown me or blackmail me financially, to which I’ll point out that I'm now twenty years old and legally an adult. I make my own money—well, as a barista but it’s still something. Plus, I have a paid internship next month and plenty of savings you can't touch, so there's that. If you try blackmailing me emotionally or psychologically, I’ll just say it right here and now that I don't care. And if you threaten to hurt Kenma…” His smile twists into something dark, malevolent. “People often liken me to a devil. If you'd like to test the validity of my reputation, why don't you try hurting him?”

Kenma remembers the upperclassmen who were giving him a hard time back when he was a first-year in Nekoma’s volleyball team, and how they immediately retired after Kuro had ‘words’ with them outside the gym. He also recalls the guy who was hitting on him, whom he chooses to believe relocated to Tanzania after Kuro also had a friendly conversation with him behind the school building. Kuro may have a still-closeted love for Korean dramas, but when it comes to Kenma he never exaggerates; he means exactly what he says. He’ll bring hell on earth if anyone from his clan even _ thinks _ of hurting Kenma to threaten him into marrying Bokuto. 

The clan head seems to recognise this. Even under layers of makeup, she visibly pales at the thought of the consequences of hypothetically laying a finger on Kenma.

“Don't you see?” Kuro says in a dangerously soft purr. Now that he's standing, he seems to loom over everyone else in the room. The malevolent darkness in his eyes seems to permeate to the rest of the bright hall, casting shadows in his wake. Kenma has never been more relieved to be in his arms. “You can't threaten me into obeying you anymore. Since our clan is all about prestige and image, which would bring more shame to our name—my eloping with someone who is not my original fiancé, or letting me marry him? Imagine what the headlines would say if I eloped with an 'ordinary' human lover. They'd say you've lost control of your heir, that you're losing your touch when it comes to disciplining your children. 

“On the other hand, if you let me have a proper wedding with him, the public would see that our clan is evolving, becoming more open-minded and liberal just like most of the other shapeshifter communities. What do you think?”

Kenma can practically see the way Kuro’s parents grind their teeth, as well as the calculations the clan head does in her mind. 

Finally, the clan head relents. “If the Bokuto clan finds this arrangement acceptable, then it shall be so,” she says, glancing over at the other side of the hall.

A wizened old man with a long silver beard to rival Dumbledore’s stands up. “There is no point in holding a wedding when one party has made it abundantly clear they do not wish to partake in it.” He eyes Bokuto and Akaashi’s clasped hands, and he adds, “Make that _ both _ parties.”

At the front of the congregation, the wedding minister clears his throat, reminding everyone he's still there. “Er, very well, then. Since the parties concerned have come to an agreement, the wedding is called off.”

Kenma barely notices the way the minister awkwardly shuffles out of the hall, the murderous glares of Kuro’s parents or the cheers from their friends when Bokuto dips and kisses Akaashi, because Kuro is whirling him around until their bodies are flushed against each other. Their faces are very, _ very _ close, closer than they've ever been allowed to be.

“That went well,” Kuro hums, grinning at Kenma.

“Other than the fact you were threatening to commit homicide—which, may I remind you, is still technically a crime—yes, it did,” Kenma replies dryly. “I'm curious, though. Have you _ actually _ killed anyone?”

Kuro’s grin widens. “Ask the devil no questions and he shan't tell you any lies.”

Kenma decides to continue believing his former high school classmate is having a quiet, peaceful life in Tanzania, away from certain murderous cat-shifters.

Kuro peers over Kenma’s head to where Kenma presumes Bokuto and Akaashi are probably having their twentieth kiss since the minister officially called off the wedding, and he frowns. “Oh hell, I can't lose to that owl-headed bastard.”

Then he leans down and covers Kenma’s lips with his own. He kisses back like Kuro’s lips is the salvation he needs to slowly but surely heal from fifteen years’ worth of scars on his heart. He no longer breathes in smoke, but instead the familiar powerful scent of Kuro’s pheromones—and that's when he finally believes they'll be okay. 

* * *

In some ways, many things have changed in the past four years since the interrupted wedding, which the media has taken to calling The Half Wedding. While betrothals are still a thing several shapeshifting communities continue to practise, the customs are no longer as strict as they were when Kuro was getting betrothed against his will to someone he barely knew. Children are still betrothed to other children at thirteen, but it’s all a technicality. Dating outside one’s engagement is a bit of a grey area, but as long as one is discreet everything will be fine. 

When the parties betrothed reach eighteen years of age, they can decide for themselves whether or not they wish to stay in their engagement. If they consent, the wedding will soon be held. If not, the engagement is called off, no questions asked. Kenma knows it’s not the complete ideal that Kuro is advocating for, but it’s certainly better than the situation they were in when they were those kids’ age.

More importantly, Kenma can call Kuro his husband, and he's been doing so for the past three and a half years. Unlike Kuro’s first incomplete wedding, theirs didn't take too long to plan and arrange. Kenma insisted on keeping it small because it was all he could handle, and Kuro was more than happy to indulge him. The only people on the guest list were close friends and direct family members. Kenma wasn't expecting the invited members of the Kuroo clan to actually show up, but they did, even if they refused to speak to Kenma other than offering him their obligatory congratulations.

Things are still kinda awkward with Kuro’s side of the family. The few times Kenma and Kuro visit them for events they _have_ to attend like New Year’s Eve, weddings and funerals, it’s always a tense affair. More often than not, they end up leaving early (and sometimes getting frisky in the backseat of their car if neither of them can wait till they get back home). But Kuro’s horde of cousins, nieces and nephews have accepted Kenma into the family with a casual ease Kenma thinks they've picked up from Kuro. Some of them even invite Kenma over for rounds of Mario Kart, and Kuro jokingly complains about being left out, so Kenma supposes his younger in-laws are somewhat more bearable than the old stuffy ones.

Things have changed among their circle of friends too. Bokuto and Akaashi have recently gotten married, since they had agreed to wait until they both graduated from university before tying the knot. Kuro and Kenma respectively were their best men. In all the years of being Akaashi’s friend, Kenma had never seen Akaashi beam so widely and unabashedly as when Bokuto blanked and improvised his vows in a thinly-veiled panic; Kenma could practically hear him think, _ He's so stupid, I love him. _

Kenma has also been trying to coach Kuro out of his violent and probably murderous protective streak. While Kenma doesn't think he has any authority on morality or what makes a good person, murder is still a crime—it'd be a hassle to deal with if one day Kuro were to actually get into trouble with the law. 

There are also some things that have remained constant in spite of the flow of time. Despite the many friends he's accumulated from playing volleyball in university, Shouyou still makes it a point to hang out regularly with Kenma. Kenma always enjoys Shouyou’s company, but he appreciates it even more on the occasional nights Kuro has to work late at his biochemical engineering company. While Kenma doesn't mind the quiet emptiness of his home when Kuro is working late, having Shouyou over is always a guarantee for a good time, whether they're playing video games together or Shouyou is telling him yet another story about what Kageyama, his friends or Natsu did the other day. It’s amazing how Shouyou never runs out of stories to tell.

Since Shouyou is a fixed feature in Kenma’s life, Kageyama is too by extension. Those two have been married ever since they were in high school, which is par for the course for crows, or so Kenma has been told. Crows mate for life, after all. Kenma finds it funny in an ironic sort of way that the most volatile couple out of all the couples he knows have also had it the easiest. Sometimes, he wonders how differently things would have turned out if Kuro had been born into the more liberal crow-shifter community instead. 

When Kenma tells Kuro this, because it’s nighttime and that is when Kenma’s brain-to-mouth filters often cease to function, Kuro laughs. His chest rumbles under Kenma’s head, and Kenma presses harder against it to savour the sensation.

“Does it matter, love?” Kuro says, pressing a kiss to the top of Kenma’s head. “What we have now—after fifteen years of suffering, struggling, doubting and fighting, we’ve earned it. Maybe in another life, things would be different, but _ this _ is our life. It would be like spitting on all that we went through to imagine all the different what-if’s.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Kenma mumbles but trails off. Sometimes, he gets visions of alternate futures of what would've happened if their plan hadn't been a success or if something had gotten in the way before they could even carry it out. This type of visions are admittedly rare, but when he does get those he wakes up in a hysterical sobbing fit. It takes Kuro several hours to get him to calm down and even longer to coax him back to sleep. Kuro has never once complained, and it’s just one of the myriad of reasons why Kenma loves him.

This time, Kuro tilts Kenma’s head up to kiss him on the lips before murmuring, “I know you still get those visions, babe. I know it’s hard.” 

“Understatement of the month at least. I wish they'd just stop.”

Kuro hums softly, probably scheming again. “When you get those visions again and you're feeling lost and scared, reach over and touch me. My being there beside you is proof enough that what we have together is real. No one’s gonna take it from us.” His lips curl into a smirk. “The unlucky soul who tries is gonna find themselves in Tanzania or somewhere even farther away from this world.”

Kenma laughs and presses his smile into Kuro’s chest.

“So let’s just enjoy what we have right now, okay?” Kuro says, running his fingers through Kenma’s hair. “Everything we went through—the pain and doubt and struggling… it was all worth it, wasn't it, love?”

And now, Kenma doesn't have to calculate and plan his next step. He doesn't have to when he's with Kuro, since Kuro is the one thing Kenma can't predict. But paradoxically, he is also the place where Kenma feels safe enough that he doesn't _ feel _ the need to calculate every move.

He nods. Kuro is right—it was all worth it, because now they have each other’s present and future, and the contentment that comes from that can easily drown out the pain of death by a thousand cuts a million times over. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this! if you enjoyed it, please kudos and comment because those make my day :D
> 
> i'm on tumblr pretty frequently, so if anyone wants to hang out and chat i can be found [here](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/) :-)) once more, a huge thank you for reading this and i hope you enjoyed it!


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